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Sun, Jul. 23rd, 2006 | 09:37 pm  ‏‏␦ achy slavezombie


Slayer
slavezombie
(click for illustration)

      It was an awesome night at the Long Beach Arena. I arrived just when Thine Eyes Bleed started. I wanted to be right up there against the rail, but that area was already taken. I made my way toward the right of the stage because it's been my experience that bands usually have their lead guitarist on that side. People had just begun to throw themselves against each other to widen the mosh pit. Irritating at times. So after Thine Eyes Bleed finished, I went for a beer.
      Feeling refreshed I was ready for anything that was thrown my way. But there's only so much one $12 beer can do. After Mastodon finished, I thought I might get another drink but decided instead for a smoke. The heat was getting to me.
      After returning for Children of Bodom, I wasn't going to leave and lose my position at the seating arrangement (as if). Lamb of God took the stage and things began to get tight where I was standing. I literally didn't have an inch of breathing space. However, none of the moshers got their wish where I stood by crowd surfing and hoping to be let down easy near the front. I had one eye on the stage and another at five o'clock.
      After the show I was drenched in sweat. What camaraderie to be surrounded by men as if in a steam room losing three or four pounds in about two or three hours. I limped out not caring whether or not Slayer would play an encore. My feet felt like they were treading over a rain slick floor. The rolling papers in my pocket lost their gummy quality. Before I left I bought a Slayer tee that I would switch for the concert tee I had on for the drive home. I wasn't sure I would be able to drive as I started to cramp up in the drivers' seat. By the time traffic in the parking lot eased up, I felt a lot better for the drive back to LA. Perhaps a bath would've been the proper thing to do, but my body was in pain.
      I wasn't the one flying over the crowds and I wasn't the one slamming against other moshers in the pit, but the few crowd surfers that did happen to come my way either landed on my head, buried their shoe in my face or just required heavy lifting.
      I had a good time. Perhaps I'll be content for the cheaper seats at my next concert where there actually is something called a seat. There is nothing really that comes close to the experience of being in front of the stage during a Slayer concert. Although I've never been to Ozzfest, I can see how a venue like that would be successful with a crowd appreciative of any clean, outdoors freshness that would deter the sense of being packed inside a livestock car waiting for the train to haul it over to a concentration camp.


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